The Art of Catching Sparks
by a girl with a golden back
Summary: "If a guy doesn't give you sparks, he's not worth your time."


Though my mother had never been one for giving life-altering advice, I do remember, one time in passing, she told me, "Kandi, if a guy doesn't give you sparks, he's not worth your time."

Even her best advice wasn't really that profound.

At the time, I'd just brushed it off. I mean, that's pretty much common sense, right? Why would I waste my time with a guy that I wasn't attracted to, someone that didn't give me that jittery, caffeine buzz, floating-on-air feeling that I so desperately craved?

I guess I didn't give my mom enough credit because she realized it before I did.

The soft glow from the streetlamps below streamed through the aquamarine curtains in my bedroom. It wasn't enough light to illuminate anything in the room, but it was just enough light to permeate the darkness and keep me from falling asleep. The truth was I hadn't really slept in days; my mind was too full of restless thoughts to allow me to drift off into my dreams.

Though I knew I had good reason to break up with Dak, I couldn't help but miss him, but I knew that it wasn't really Dak that I missed. It was more the _idea_ of Dak that had so much appeal, the desire to be in a relationship. I'd never been the girl that had a different boyfriend ever week, and I'd never felt the need to cling to a guy to make myself feel better, but now that I'd gotten a taste of what it felt like to be part of a couple, I felt that much more alone being on my own again.

As I stared at all of the tiny flecks and imperfections on the stretch of white ceiling above my head, my cell phone suddenly lit up from its place on the nightstand. My hand felt along the nightstand for it, squinting my eyes to block out the screen's harsh glow.

When my tired brown eyes had finally adjusted to the light, I noticed that I'd received a text from my best friend Logan. The timing was a little odd, considering it was almost two in the morning, but my thumb flicked across the screen anyway, revealing the message.

I had to read over the words on the screen twice to be sure that my exhausted eyes weren't playing tricks on me.

"Will you go to prom with me?"

Though it was a little out of the blue, I had to admit that I really did want to go to prom, especially since I'd already found the perfect dress. I'd expected to go with Dak, but since the split, the gorgeous dress seemed to taunt me from its place hanging from the knob of my closet door. My friends had tried to talk me into going with them as a group, but I knew that I'd just feel like the awkward fifth wheel. Better off to save myself the humiliation and just hole myself up in my room for the night.

I'd never even considered going with Logan. I figured he was trying to patch things up with his girlfriend, and if that was the case, taking me to the prom was definitely not the way to accomplish it.

Besides, being Logan's date probably wouldn't be the smartest decision on my part either. Even though I considered him my best friend since I'd moved out to Los Angeles, Logan and I had sort of a history, and there was always this tension between us since he'd tried to kiss me in his apartment one time.

Though I loved him as a person and as my best friend, I didn't feel for him in that way. No matter how much I wanted to be able to return those feelings, I just couldn't see him in that way, and I felt like prom would just exaggerate that awkward tension even more.

In the end, I wanted to go with him because I knew we'd have fun together, I just didn't want to lead him on like that.

But I let my impulses get the best of me as I pressed in my response, silently hoping that things wouldn't go terribly wrong, as they tended to go for me.

"Sure."

Just one word: no details and no questions asked. I was positive that Logan would be buzzing with questions in class later that day.

And of course, he didn't fail to meet my expectations.

After class that afternoon, while my mom was still at work, Logan stopped by the apartment to get a look at my dress since the guys were planning on going out together and renting their tuxes that weekend, so he needed to know what colors to match.

Without my mom's presence, the apartment was oddly empty and silent as I stepped into the kitchen, with Logan trailing closely behind. His dark eyes darted around the space, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. We usually hung out by the pool, in the lobby downstairs, or in the apartment he shared with his three best friends, so he hadn't really seen much of my apartment over the course of our friendship. In all honesty, it felt a little awkward hanging out here, just because my mom didn't really approve of my relationship with Logan and his friends. In her eyes, I spent too much time with "that boy," time that could've been better spent working on advancing my acting career because, after all, that was the reason we moved out here in the first place.

I felt like, if she had things her way, she would keep me holed up in this apartment twenty-four seven working on my lines for the film I'd been cast in.

I led the way into my bedroom, straight from the door to the opposite side of the room where my closet was, trying to wrestle my dress from its garment bag as subtly as I could without making a fool of myself in front of Logan.

As soon as my eyes wandered across the brightly colored fabric, I fell in love all over again. Why is it so much easier to fall in love with an article of clothing than a living, breathing boy?

"Yes? No? Maybe?" I asked cautiously as I held the dress by its hanger against my frame.

His chocolate-colored eyes bulged a little as his lips fumbled for words. It was an expression I was used to seeing imprinted on his face. He wasn't the most articulate person Id' ever met, to say the least.

"It's too much," I relinquished with a sigh. To be fair, I hadn't chosen the most traditional prom dress. The hem fell just above my knees, as opposed to the ball gown dresses my friends had chosen for the occasion, and the intricately beaded neckline battled with the various shades of pinks, yellows, greens, and blues for the most attention. It was a risky dress, but I'd much rather wear something I dance comfortably in than something I would constantly be worrying about ripping or ruining.

Logan laughed a little to himself at the worry in my deep brown eyes. "Actually, I don't think I could picture you wearing anything else," he replied with a smile, the corners of his eyes creasing with the gesture and a hint of his dimples bore into his cheeks. "So basically I can pick any color of the rainbow and it would still match your dress?"

I rolled my eyes. "Pretty much. I'd go with pink though," I suggested as my fingers trailed along the more prominent waves of magenta against the white backdrop.

He sighed as he plopped onto the edge of my bed. "It had to be pink, didn't it?"

"You know it," I teased as I spread the dress out across the polka-dotted comforter, too lazy to bother trying to get it back into the bag.

I eased into the space beside him on the bed, my eyes focused on the beige carpet beneath my bare toes as my hands folded in my lap. A heavy breath escaped my lips before I decided to trudge into unknown territory. "Okay, so you don't have to answer this, it's really none of my business, but why aren't you going with Camille to prom?"

Her name tasted almost sour on my tongue. We'd never really gotten along, partially because she was convinced I was trying to hook up with Logan and partially because she's fucking insane.

He wringed out his hands in his lap before he spoke, and I could tell in his eyes that his mind was searching for the right words to say. "Um…it just wasn't working out between us. Honestly, I know this probably makes me sound like a wimp or something since I'm a guy and all, but she was a little controlling."

I nodded slowly, fighting back the urge to tell him that that was the understatement of the century.

"I mean, I thought it was a little extreme that she wouldn't let me hang out with you," he paused before his stare met mine. "It's not like there's anything there or something." His hand motioned back and forth in the space between us, his features furrowed slightly, and his eyebrow rose: a perfect exaggeration of shrugging it off.

There wasn't any way I could really respond to that, so I chose to change the subject instead. "Anyways, thanks for asking me. I know I've been a bummer to hang around since me and Dak broke up."

He sighed softly in agreement. "Honestly, I'm just glad we can hang out again."

The day of the Palm Woods prom was nothing short of complete and utter chaos. My three closest girl friends and I had taken up refuge in my apartment, a salon's worth of makeup and hair supplies were skewed across the floor as each of us fought for time in front of the full-length mirror that hung on the back of my bedroom door.

Stephanie was the first to finish getting ready, but then again, she had the best canvas out of the four of us, the easiest raw material to work with. I'd helped her straighten her coarse, dark hair to perfection. A delicate floral headband provided the best finishing touch, the light champagne tone of the rosette a shimmering contrast to her ebony locks.

"Well ladies, guess I'd better head back home. I'm sure my dad's just foaming at the mouth waiting to take a gazillion pictures," she laughed, her jade eyes gleaming with excitement.

Having all of your friends living in the same building as you is like a spontaneous sleepover, and now that I'd gotten somewhat accustomed to life at the Palm Woods, I realized that I wouldn't want it any other way.

We gathered around in a circle of hugs and twelve-year-old girlish squeals, each of us simultaneously wishing her luck and promising to see her later on at dinner. She pulled up the hem of her fitted, bronze-colored gown as she hurried out of my apartment in her bare feet down the hall to her own place.

Jennifer was sitting on the edge of my bed, wrapping sections of my hair around the barrel of a curling iron as I sat on the floor at her feet.

Jo's reflection shot me a glance in the mirror as she slathered a coral shimmer lip gloss on her lips. "So does it feel odd to be going with Logan instead of Dak?" she asked, her doe-like eyes narrowing slightly as her lips puckered.

"No, not really. I mean, I know that me and Logan are going to have a good time together. We always do. But it's not going to be this huge, insanely romantic night that I imagined it being with Dak."

When it came to my relationship with Logan, with Jo, I tended to keep things on the shallow side. Since she was close friends with Camille, I felt like anything I said regarding Logan could be used against me somehow.

With a smack of her freshly-glossed lips, Jo was heading towards the door, her dirty blonde hair pulled up into an elaborate updo with tiny braids and twists worked throughout her locks.

"You're leaving?" Jennifer asked, her lower lip jutting forward in a mock pout.

Jo nodded briefly. "Yeah, Kendall's supposed to be meeting me soon, so I'd better get going. See you guys at dinner!" She flashed us a smile before ducking out the door.

With Jo out of sight and out of mind, I felt slightly more comfortable, my muscles loosening as Jennifer's fingers grabbed a new lock to curl.

"Okay, so honestly, how do you _really_ feel about tonight?" Jennifer gushed with an edge of laughter to her voice.

"Truthfully, I'm really just excited. Like seriously, I'm buzzing right now," I confessed, though I couldn't turn to gauge her reaction. "I know I should feel bad for feeling this good about going with Logan, since he was _supposed_ to go with Camille or whatever, but I don't."

I could hear my friend laugh as she reached for the enormous can of hairspray beside me. "I don't blame you, I probably wouldn't feel bad either. You and Logan should just go and have fun, fuck what everyone else has to say about it."

It felt odd hearing the petite girl curse, but at least she spoke the truth.

"Hold your breath."

As soon as the words fell from her lips, my vision was clouded by a fog of hairspray, the sudden harsh burn of chemical fumes flooded my nostrils.

"Okay, you're done," Jennifer beamed at me as she led me towards the mirror, a satisfied grin brightening her sunkissed skin.

Instead of its usual carefree mess of waves, my chestnut locks fell in gorgeous curls over my shoulders, some pieces pulled back to form a voluminous bump at the crown of my head. Jennifer's hazel eyes met mine in the mirror, obviously proud of her work.

"Thanks so much. It looks amazing," I replied as my hand hovered over my own head of hair, almost too scared to touch it and risk ruining it.

"No problem."

"Kandi, Logan's here," I heard my mom call from the next room, and Jennifer's eyes immediately met mine, mirroring my shocked expression.

"Guess you got finished in the nick of time."

Her lips curved to form a knowing smile. "Hope tonight goes well for you," she said as she pulled me into a brief embrace.

"Thanks girl, same goes for you."

She flashed me a suggestive smirk as she walked out the door.

Brown eyes surveyed the fair-skinned brunette in the mirror staring back at me, taking quick inventory of my glammed-up appearance. Of course, I hadn't put on my shoes yet, so I stumbled over to the bed and reached for the pair of strappy silver heels from their hiding place beneath my bed.

Slowly rising to my feet, I had to steady myself using the nightstand to keep from immediately face-planting into the carpet. But it didn't take long for me to get my bearing in the heels, carefully practicing slow and steady steps as I made my way to the door. It was a little nerve-wracking knowing that Logan was on the other side waiting for me. I wasn't really expecting to receive a jaw drop reaction from him, but I couldn't help but be anxious to find out what he thought of my appearance, so I took a deep breath and slowly pulled the door open.

Logan's melted chocolate eyes were the first things I saw as I stepped into the kitchen, trying my hardest not to fall face-first onto the linoleum floor. He was leaning against the counter, looking awkwardly adorable in his tux as he tried to help my mom figure out how to operate the digital camera.

"Hey," I said softly as I made my way over, offering him a slight wave as I sidled into the space between him and my mom.

"Hey." He flashed me a quick smile.

"Oh my God! Kandi, you look gorgeous!" my mom exclaimed as her light brown eyes looked me over.

"Thanks," I laughed as I inched over towards the refrigerator to get his boutonnière.

The ridged plastic container sat on the top shelf of the fridge, lodged in between a half-full bottle of lemonade flavored vitaminwater and a jar of Duke's mayonnaise. I glanced over the fuchsia and purple petals of the orchid, making sure that the edges hadn't curled or turned brown in the day that I'd had it.

"Okay, I think I've got this down," my mom laughed from behind the camera. Her words were quickly accompanied by a flash.

A similar plastic box was tucked beneath Logan's arm, and as soon as his eyes landed on the box in my hand, he reached for his own.

"So how exactly do I put this on?" I asked sheepishly as I popped the lid open, taking the flower in the palm of my hand.

My mother's hand trailed along the black lapel of Logan's jacket as a demonstration. "Anywhere around here, just make sure it's in good and straight."

As I leaned in closer, unsheathed needle in hand, Logan whimpered, "Please don't stab me," causing us both to giggle a little as my mom crazily snapped photos like a paparazzo.

"Alright, I think I did an okay job," I laughed as I took a step back to make sure the flower was pinned in straight. "You've got it so much easier. All you have to do is fiddle around with velcro."

He laughed to himself as he removed the corsage from its container, a little bundle of bright yellow daffodils surrounded by sprigs of baby's breath.

"I always thought the flowers were supposed to match," I admitted as I offered him my wrist.

His face dropped slightly as he secured the band of velcro around my abnormally-tiny wrist. "Oops, guess I didn't get that memo," he said with a shrug.

"It's okay, I mean, we aren't the most conventional prom dates ever, so I don't think we have to follow by the rulebook."

My mom posed us by the door for the mandatory prom photos, and though I didn't mind, it all seemed a little too couple-y for my tastes. But Logan didn't seem to mind, so I kept my complaints to myself as my cheeks began to hurt from smiling so hard for so long. After what felt like an eternity, my mom finally set us off with a warm smile and a promise to make copies of the pictures for Logan's mom back in Minnesota.

As the night came to a close, Logan and I were standing outside the front door of my apartment, both a little more reluctant than we should've been for prom night to be over.

"So I had a really great time tonight," I mumbled as my hands toyed with the hem of my dress. "Thanks again for being my date."

Truthfully, I did have an amazing time. Prom turned out to be a lot more fun than I expected, and spending time with all of my friends really helped me take my mind off of Dak, if only for a night, and I was grateful for that. Logan and I spent almost the whole night out on the dancefloor, dancing wildly to a string of Top 40 hits blasting from the DJ's booth.

It was only now as we parted ways that things began to feel tense again. The air between us seemed to hum with expectancy, and Logan's fair skin seemed to glow beneath the dim lights overhead, his magenta tie loosened a bit around his neck.

"No problem, I had fun tonight myself." He grinned.

A moment of silence lapsed between the two of us, neither of us quite sure of what to say.

"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, definitely," he laughed as he thrust his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

"Bye," I mumbled as my arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him into a quick and friendly embrace. My lips brushed lightly against his cheek before pulling away.

"Bye," he said as his hand formed a half-hearted wave, his deep eyes focused on mine as I pulled the door closed.

The first thing I did as I leaned against the back of the door was to toss my shoes off. They were comfortable as far as heels go, but my feet were aching after a night of dancing in them.

"So how did it go?" my mom asked from her seat on the couch. Her gaze shifted from the flicker of the television screen to my face as I trudged into the living room and plopped onto the sofa beside her.

"Surprisingly well," I admitted, letting my eyelids fall closed.

"I ran out to the drugstore and got those pictures made," I could hear her voice continue. "I've already separated the copies out, so you can give Logan's to him next time you see him."

"Okay," I mumbled as my eyes slowly opened.

Neatly spread out across the top of the cherry-stained coffee table were the photos we'd posed for only hours earlier, Logan in his tux and me in my multi-colored dress. As my gaze skimmed over each photo, I couldn't help but notice how good we looked together, both dressed our best, our skin the same shade of milky white. He stood behind me, his hands on my hips as we both beamed at the camera, and I realized that he was the perfect height for me, my head coming just above his shoulder. It just looked so natural for me to be in his arms like that, so effortless, and I realized that it honestly was. Though Logan's posture had been a bit stiff, I'd had no problem with having his body pressed that closely against my own. As I examined each photo, it all began to fall into place in my mind.

"You two look so cute together," my mom commented as her eyes glanced at the photo in my hand. "Logan seems very sweet."

I agreed wholeheartedly; Logan was the best guy I knew. "He is."

And I think I'm in love with him.


End file.
